To Find a Killer
by Epicocity
Summary: AU. Seven months after TO CATCH A KILLER. The biggest trial of the year, the repeal of the anti-fraternization rule, a series of bombings, and a rash of mysterious murders make for a volatile mix when a killer appears with a deadly game and the promise to kill again…starting with Edward Elric.
1. Chapter 1

**This is the first chapter of TO FIND A KILLER. I worked very hard on this chapter so I hope you enjoy it.**

**Author: Epicocity**

**Rating: T for Language, Blood, Some Disturbing Images, and Innuendo**

**Pairings: Edwin, Royai, AlMei, HavBec, and others**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, that belongs to Hiromu Arakawa and Shonen Gangan.**

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**TO FIND A KILLER**

_**Book Two of the Vengeance Series**_

Chapter 1

"Stop right there, Martins!"

Roy Mustang's shoes hit the pavement in a hurried cadence. A short distance away he saw his target attempting to escape from his reach by grabbing onto a chain link fence. The metal was wet from a previous day's rain causing the man to slide off it and onto the ground. Mustang's coat flapped out behind him as he continued to gain on the fleeing criminal. Wind whipped past him, tousling his jet black hair, and in his hands was his gun, though it wasn't aimed at anything.

Martins, the man who was being chased, finally managed to recover from his tumble. He clambered up as Mustang finally reached him. The pursuing man grabbed the criminal and tossed him against the same fence he had tried to use earlier. Unfortunately, like his quarry, Mustang forgot about the puddles on the ground and his feet slipped. Martins took advantage of the momentary distraction and pushed Mustang away before proceeding to make a beeline for the nearby alleyway.

"Damn rain…" Mustang growled, pushing himself to his feet. Luckily, his gun hadn't fallen out of his hands. It took less than a second for him to see the object of his chase running down the alleyway. With a grunt, Mustang set off into the narrow alley.

The small space warranted a far more cautionary approach from the cop, but his target didn't need to take such caution into consideration. Soon enough, he had broken into a larger back street. Once he had, Mustang picked up his speed, breaking into the back street himself. Then he saw Martins heading for the main road, a cackle on his lips. Mustang scowled; if Martins did manage to make it into the densely populated main road, his odds of catching the man would become severely low. So, he pumped his legs and pushed them harder in an attempt to catch up.

Martins looked back as he reached the corner to freedom, giving Mustang a wide smirk. It was a fatal mistake.

Roy didn't even need to look to know what had just happened to the man. Whereas one second before he had been running, his single moment to look back resulted in him flipping over and lying on his back. Stretched out before him was a metal arm. Mustang rolled his eyes as he reached Martins and placed a foot on his back, forcing him down.

"You're lucky I was there," commented the owner of the metal arm, finally stepping into view. Mustang scowled at the appearance of Edward Elric; from his braided blonde hair, to his bright red jacket, and most recently to his automail arm. "You're slipping."

"And it's nice to see you're as annoying as ever, Fullmetal," Mustang commented. Martins started to groan, but Roy gave him a swift, "Shut up."

"Hey, I wouldn't have let the guy get this far," Ed commented, using his left arm to take a drink of coffee. Roy snorted.

"Yeah, I know, because you would have easily fit through that alleyway. You _are_ that small after all." Ed snapped a furious look to Mustang, causing the older man to laugh.

"Whatever, Detective Dipstick," jeered the younger forensics specialist.

"That's Chief, now," Roy corrected him with a smirk. It was Ed's turn to roll his eyes.

"Then I can start calling you _Interim_ Chief Clueless." The smirk dropped off his face, easily replaced with a scowl.

"Very funny. Don't forget I'm your boss," Mustang remarked. Ed shrugged nonchalantly.

"If we're playing that game, then let's not forget you owe me." If the sight of Ed's automail arm wasn't enough of a reminder, then the young man's words certainly were.

Ed, of course, was referring to the day he had lost his right arm seven months ago. Normally, Roy would have simply considered the loss of limb as a hazard of the job. This time it was more than that. Part of the reason was that, technically, as a forensics specialist, Ed shouldn't have even been in that kind of danger. But the real truth of the matter was that it had been his own personal lust for vengeance that had caused Ed's limb removal. Edward Elric had given Roy a sense of closure. He had helped him solve the murder of his best friend, Maes Hughes by giving that arm. That was why he owed the young man.

"What? Are you cashing in now?" Mustang asked. The question caused Ed to scoff.

"Not likely." Ed lifted his other arm again, thankfully still flesh and blood, and took another sip from the coffee that was in his hand. Beneath him, Martins was groaning and starting to get up.

"I don't think so, Martins," the chief warned, stomping his foot upon the man's lower right leg. Martins screamed in frustration while attempting to wriggle out of the situation. It hardly did him any good.

A clomping of footsteps dashing through puddles was heard behind Mustang, causing both he and Ed to look at the people approaching. Roy's gaze softened upon seeing his long-time partner, now Head Detective, Riza Hawkeye approach. As always, she looked calm, cold, and professional. Roy, thankfully, knew her as more than that. For the moment, though, her lips were thin and her eyes were blazing: a telltale sign to the interim chief that she was pissed. It certainly made him glad that she wasn't holding her gun.

"Sir, how many times do I have to tell you not to go chasing after suspects on your own? He could have gotten away," chastised Hawkeye. Mustang rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"He didn't, though," the chief pointed out. Judging from Hawkeye's reaction, that wasn't the answer that she wanted to hear. Her chocolate eyes narrowed, scrutinizing her boss for a moment.

"Why are you wet?"

"Slipped in a puddle," Mustang murmured. He had said it quietly in the hopes that at least Ed hadn't heard. He wasn't so lucky because a second later, the young man threw his head back and laughed.

"Wow, you really are useless around water, huh?" Ed gasped out between peals of laughter. Roy, himself, was not amused, and nor did he find it even remotely funny.

"Shut it, Fullmetal!" Ed refused to comply, so instead of forcing the forensics specialist to stop, he straight up ignored him. Hawkeye, on the other hand, did not do so.

"Either way, he's right, sir," she berated. "It was reckless of you to run off. You could have hurt yourself, let the suspect get away, or both."

"Cut me some slack, detective," cried an exasperated Mustang.

She ignored his protests and continued on. "Besides, shouldn't you be in your office, sir? Last I remembered, you still have plenty of paperwork to do and isn't the chief supposed to leave these kinds of pursuits to his detectives."

_She never lets up,_ Mustang sighed inwardly. The words he spoke out loud were more composed. "We're short-staffed, remember?"

"I do remember," Riza acknowledged. "That doesn't mean you can continue to skirt your paperwork, sir."

"Okay, already," Mustang snapped. Hawkeye looked pleased with herself while in the background he continued to hear Ed's guffaws. "I just like to get out once in a while, and with the Bradley trial I need _some_ kind of recreation."

"Well, your recreation is still considered work to us," said the red-haired detective that had now joined them. Detective Heymans Breda was starting to look thinner than usual, a fact which Roy noted in the East City sunlight. It was no surprise, given the man's increased workload and general hours. He still wasn't as thin as his partner, though, who was currently approaching Martins with handcuffs out.

"Yeah, Chief, leave some for the rest of us," Havoc said, a toothpick sticking out of his mouth. A few months ago, that would have been a cigarette, but Rebecca had long been trying to stamp the habit out of him. Ever since Jean Havoc and Rebecca Catalina had begun secretly (here meaning the whole station knew they were) dating, she'd been attempting to mold him into the perfect man. Thinking on the black-haired whirlwind of energy, Mustang scowled. That anti-fraternization repeal was another thing he had to look at in his stack of papers.

"Hey, don't blame me if you guys are slow," he argued. Breda rolled his eyes but said nothing. In the meantime, Havoc grabbed Martins and hauled him to his feet while slapping the cuffs on him. Mustang, naturally, had to remove his foot from the suspect for the detective to do so.

"All right, Martins, you're under arrest," Havoc told the man. Martins finally seemed willing to give up the fight, probably due to the handcuffs now encircling his wrists.

"Put him in Interrogation A," Mustang informed his detectives. "We need a confession out of him."

"Don't take too long, sir," Hawkeye said sternly with her eyes full of warning. Mustang waved her off as the head detective trotted after her team. Roy finally turned back to Ed, who had stopped laughing and was now occupied with finishing his coffee.

"You look tired," the chief observed. "Rough night?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Ed grumbled, though Roy wasn't entirely sure Ed's frustration was aimed at him. "I swear I'm being driven nuts!"

"The wedding or Winry?" Ed's scowl deepened. Following this, he pitched his presumably empty coffee cup into the nearest trash can before walking. Roy went after him.

"Both," Ed grunted. "If it's not one it's the other and then Marcoh goes on vacation so we're swamped down in Forensics. It's like my own special brand of hell."

"Hmmm…" Roy mused. Looking over Ed he could tell that the twenty-one year old hadn't been resting very well as of late. There were dark circles surrounding his eyes and his usual scowl was marred by even more lines. If the chief didn't know better, he'd say Ed was having marital problems. Of course, that wasn't the case; Ed and Winry were too in love to let a few arguments get in their way. Well, that and they had a baby on the way. "When's the due date?"

"Two and a half weeks," Ed answered, his expression brightening for a moment. "I'd be excited if I wasn't running out to the grocery store every day for whatever new food Winry wants…and Resembool only has one damn grocer. I swear, I'm not ready for this."

"You'll be fine," Roy assured him. For a moment, he directed his gaze away from Ed to notice that they were approaching the police station. As a result, he almost missed what the young man was saying.

"I _would_ be fine if Al and Mei's wedding wasn't set practically right after the baby's supposed to come. Unfortunately, it's the only time that squinty-eyed freak has off." Ed shoved his hands in his pockets before looking at Roy with a frown. "Speaking of which, are you coming or what? Al says that he hasn't gotten an RSVP from you yet."

"Sorry, it's probably lost amidst the massive stack of papers between my home and office. I'll get to it tonight."

"Whatever, I'll just tell Al to put Detective Hawkeye's seat and yours together." Roy would have shot him a dirty look, but the truth of it was that he didn't really mind. He and Riza were in a good place, and with the anti-fraternization repeal on the horizon, both of them felt they could relax a little. Ed suddenly grunted next to him and the chief caught sight of the forensics specialist rubbing the joint where his automail arm connected with the rest of his body.

"Automail problems?"

"Just rehabilitation issues," Ed told him. "Most days I'm fine, but I'm still not totally used to it, even after seven months. Of course, Winry says it's a miracle I'm doing that well to begin with."

Their conversation came to a sudden halt as they pushed the doors to the precinct open. Like every day, it was filled with the usual hustle and bustle: officers going out on patrol, detective's visiting each other's desks and the usual station visitors that were waiting there for some reason or another. It was a comforting sight to Mustang because it meant the damage caused by Bradley's duplicity was finally beginning to heal.

"Well, I should get going," Ed said, raising his hand in farewell.

"Hey, Fullmetal," Mustang called back before the young man could get too far. Ed looked at him in wonder. "I had something important I wanted to talk to you about. Can you meet me in my office in about half an hour?"

"Sure," Ed answered dismissively. Then he left. Mustang let out a breath before sweeping into the main area of the station.

Almost immediately, he heard his name being called by a familiar officer. "They're waiting for you in Interrogation A, Chief."

"Thanks, Brosh," Mustang said to the officer. "Shouldn't you be out on patrol?"

"Officer Ross is on bathroom break," Brosh answered timidly and with a slight flush of embarrassment. Roy resisted the urge to laugh. It was common knowledge that the officer was quite smitten with his partner.

"I hear she's planning to take the DET next month," Roy informed the man. "We may have to find you a new partner."

"Don't say that, sir!" the officer whined. Mustang gave a light chuckle, patted him on the back and set off for the interrogation room.

When he reached the room, he poked his head inside the adjoining room to get the file from his three detectives. Uttering a word of thanks, Mustang brought himself and the file into the interrogation room. Martins was sitting at the table, a glare in his eyes and a sense of defiance that the chief almost always saw whenever he first looked at criminals.

"So, let's talk about drug trafficking, Martins," Mustang said as he seated himself across from the perpetrator. Martins looked to be chewing the inside of his cheek at the man's words. For a brief moment, Mustang thought he'd spill everything, but his words indicated a more obstinate spirit.

"I want a lawyer." Mustang sighed inwardly. So…they'd be doing this the hard way.

"Fine, I'll have my detectives call for you, but I don't think it'll help." The chief slammed the file on the table and flipped it open. "Shipping manifests, phone records, not to mention the stash of drugs at your safe house. I'd say that even with a lawyer it's enough to put you away for ten, maybe twenty, years. It all depends on how much you tell me."

"I ain't telling you shit!" Martins spat, some of his spittle hitting the file folder. Mustang quirked an eyebrow. "We don't rat on our people."

"You might not, but I'm sure any number of your peons looking to avoid time in the slammer would be more than willing to 'rat on your people'." Mustang leaned back in his chair and interlocked his fingers together. "Now, this can go one of two ways: you can confess everything to me and I might be able to get you a reduced sentence, or you can keep playing this little game and we'll keep going until you get life in prison. Your choice."

Martins was really biting his cheek now. It was almost a wonder that it didn't come off. Mustang waited in silence for a moment until, "All right, already! I didn't even want to do business in the East Area. Everyone knows the horror stories about you guys."

"You were using the train and subway system as couriers for drugs. Are you really trying to tell me you didn't want to supply to the East Area?"

"That wasn't my idea," Martins protested. "I just worked the South Area, okay? I had a nice gig and then one day some new cartel moves in and muscles me out. A week later their representative approaches me and offers me a job."

"What cartel?"

"Don't know, but their product moved fast and silent. They offered me a cut, a pretty hefty one, if I used the trains to deliver product across the country. I would've been a fool to pass it up, even though it meant working here."

"Let me get this straight," Mustang said after changing his position to leaning over the table," you were pushed out by a cartel you've never heard of and then decided to work for them in a highly exposed area to move their product. That's either risky, stupid, or both."

"It worked, though, didn't it?" Martins asked. "We worked in this area for at least two months before you guys caught on. I mean, you guys are slipping. The police better get it together or criminals like us might be running the streets."

"I highly doubt that," Mustang answered with a confident smirk. He stood, the file moving with him. "I'll see if your information checks out and we'll revisit your prison term with the DA. You guys can take him to holding, now."

With those words, Mustang left a befuddled Martins behind and exited the room. As he walked away, Havoc popped out with a "_We'll_ investigate it. _You'll_ do your paperwork." Mustang laughed it off as he approached his office and eventually entered it.

His office was an absolute mess; seven months of chaos and changing personnel would do that. Where once stood any number of the now-Commissioner Grumman's artifacts stood stacks of boxes. On top of those unopened file boxes stood other unruffled stacks of paper that were an absolute eyesore to look at. The real proof of the paper-storm though, was the stack that was sitting on his desk…and those had just arrived that morning.

Sighing, Mustang threw the Martins case file on top of one of the paper stacks and collapsed into his chair. Despite it being part of his lifelong ambition to reach this office, he couldn't deny that he hated all the tedious paperwork that came with it. Then there was the fact that he was no longer able to get out into the field as much as he would have liked. Roy's eyes flitted over to the television in the corner of the room and after a brief moment of deliberation, the chief decided that turning it on would be another great way to avoid paperwork. So he did just that.

As soon as the television went on, Roy was met with the jingling that meant the late morning news hour was about to begin. "Good morning, folks, and welcome back to another beautiful day in Amestris. I'm news anchor Chuck Freeman."

"And I'm Connie Miller, here to bring you the latest news of the day on this Monday morning," said the woman on the screen. Roy frowned a little as he leaned back to watch them.

"First up, the results of last week's primary elections are finally out and it looks like the opposing party is putting up a real strong candidate for this year's election," Chuck commented. Connie turned to him with a practically bobbing head.

"President Dante may have difficulty this year, which is surprising after her six near-undisputed wins."

"That whole Bradley mess really put a pall over her term as president, huh?"

"I'm afraid so, Chuck. Any number of people are calling for stronger leadership after that fiasco last year. After all, if the president couldn't see that her own commissioner was crooked, what else has she missed?"

"Well, they may get that chance for a different leader. Although, that upcoming presidential parade in Central may still change a few more minds," Chuck said as he turned back to the screen. "In related news, another long-time incumbent Henry Douglas is being challenged by the heavily supported James Fokker for the position of District Attorney. As many of you know, Fokker is known as one of the men that were instrumental in taking down Bradley and his organization, making him a strong candidate for that lofty position of justice."

"Either way, I think this year of election is going to be one to remember come November."

"I couldn't agree more, Connie," Chuck concluded. "Speaking of the Bradley case, we now take you live inside the Central City courthouse where both sides are giving their opening statements. Over to you, Bill."

Roy suddenly leaned forward in his chair as the picture on the television changed to an inside view of the courthouse. The first thing he saw was Henry Douglas, the current District Attorney, standing before the jury, looking every bit as professional as expected. "People of the jury, we all know King Bradley. He was our commissioner, the man who was supposed to make us feel safe in our beds at night. But he didn't. King Bradley was anything but the peaceful man we all believed him to be. This prosecution will demonstrate and prove to you that Bradley was a man who committed countless crimes, including that of embezzlement and the orchestration of murder, including that of Prince Claudio of Aerugo.

"Men and women of the jury," Douglas continued. "As this trial proceeds, I want you to assess the facts with just a single question in mind: would you feel safe with this man on the streets?"  
His statement concluded, Douglas returned to his seat as the judge called the defense to give theirs. Mustang barely paid any attention to Klemin, the man he knew was representing Bradley, and instead focused his eyes on the defendant himself. Douglas' words hadn't even rattled him, and Klemin's speech about Bradley's years of service and shaky evidence didn't seem to affect the older man either. On the contrary, he looked entirely peaceful, yet radiating an aura of ferocity even through the television.

"Catching up on the trial, are we?" The voice suddenly alerted Roy to someone's presence in his office and he wrenched himself away from the court case. Ed was standing before him with his hands in his pockets, staring at the chief in expectation.

"We _are_ testifying in two days, so I thought I'd see how it was going," Roy confessed as he turned it off. "Close the door and sit down."

Ed did as he was asked before staring at Mustang with suspicion. "What's this about, Mustang? I have plenty of work to do."

"As you know, the department's a little short-staffed recently thanks to all the dirty cops and the Bradley business, and it's making case-closing harder by the day," Mustang began. Ed nodded his acknowledgement of the face. "So, I recently had a discussion with Hawkeye, Grumman and the board and we all agreed upon a plan of action."

"Get to the point already!"

"I want you to become a detective." Silence followed that as Ed stared at him, his expression teetering the line between furious and dumbstruck. "I know it's not traditional but the board has said that with a mandated one month in the police academy, a demonstration of firearm techniques, and a high score on the detective's exam we can clear you to be a detective. You'd be partnered with Hawkeye so you wouldn't have to-"

"The hell? !" Ed screamed as his automail arm slammed into Roy's desk. "You couldn't think to mention this to me earlier? Is that why you trained me how to use a gun, bastard?"

"Calm down, Fullmetal, it's just a proposal," Mustang assured him. "And no, I trained you to use a gun to protect yourself, the same way you taught me hand-to-hand combat."  
"Bastard," seethed Ed, causing a sigh to escape Roy's lips. "I already spend enough time here as it is and now you want me to spend more? ! I have a kid on the way. I not gonna make him feel like he doesn't have a father because you asked me to. I'm not dying for you anymore."

"No one's asking you to," Roy said. "It was just an offer. You'd make a great detective and I'd rather have you on my team."

Ed fidgeted in his chair a moment, as if attempting to find an appropriate response to such an offer. When at last, it seemed he couldn't, he slumped in his chair before asking, "Can I have some time to think about it?"

"Of course," Mustang told him. "The offer's on the table as long as you're around." Ed nodded, his face looking as though he'd swallowed something unpleasant. He quickly stood and made his way to the door. His movement stopped after he had opened the door a crack, letting the sounds outside filter in.

"Miss Gracia and Elicia are coming over for dinner, tonight. Think you can make it?"

"I'll see what I can do. As you can tell, I'm drowning in paperwork here." He gestured around his office with a half-smile. Ed gave another nod and a scowl before leaving the office, slamming the door on his way out.

Roy rolled his eyes at the young man's impetuousness. He knew the offer wouldn't have thrilled Ed, but he still meant every word he had said. Hopefully, with the baby on the way he'd be more inclined to take a higher paying job. Of course, higher pay meant more paperwork, as Roy himself had found out a long time ago. With a groan of reluctance and remembrance, the chief latched onto his first sheaf of papers and dragged them down to working level.

He had hardly set pen to paper when a knock sounded on his door. Roy didn't bother acknowledging the person's presence because they opened the door a second later. "What do you want, Detective Feury?"

"Sir, there's a visitor here that wants to see you and only you," Feury said. Finally, Roy had heard something interesting besides what had come out of his own mouth today. At least, it was interesting enough to make him snap his gaze to Detective Kain Feury. The young detective (still the youngest on their team) stood there nervously, his large glasses doing nothing to hide his wide eyes. "He's waiting for you in the visiting area."

"Great," Mustang mumbled. Feury took that as a receipt of his words and attempted to exit the room. "Hey, Feury, how're you and Sheska doing?"

"Fine…" Feury answered dubiously. "Haven't had much time to see her lately because of the case load, but…we're good."

"That's good to hear. Thanks for letting me know about my visitor." Feury took that as a sign of his departure and left. Mustang pushed himself out of his chair and left the office, heading towards the station entrance with a groan of annoyance. Today was turning out to be a long day.

It took him little time to reach the visitor's area which he began to survey immediately on arrival, looking for who his surprise guest might be. He saw an older man who appeared to be waiting to give his witness statement for some case or another. Next to him was a middle-aged woman (accompanied by a child) who looked like the wife of one of his detectives. Across from them was another woman with blonde hair who was calmly relaxing while doing her crossword. Next to her was- Roy could have slapped himself.

Taking up most of the space in the visitor's area was the hulking form of Alex Louis Armstrong, who was conversing in a surprisingly quiet voice with the man sitting next to the blonde woman. In reality, he should have been the first thing that the chief noticed with how huge he was. Mustang's eyes slid over to the older man, who Roy recognized in an instant. It was impossible not to with that bushy mustache and balding head.

"Well, it was good to see you again, Detective Comanche," Armstrong said with a slight bow. The older man, Detective Giolo Comanche, patted Armstrong on his bicep with his free hand while his right hand continued to clasp his cup of coffee.

"Yes, I'm glad you've been doing well since Ishval, Armstrong," Comanche responded. Armstrong gave a nod and turned away, uttering a quick "Chief" before he left the area. Mustang and Comanche were now able to fully direct their attentions to one another.

"Detective Comanche, it's been a while, hasn't it?" Roy said, holding his hand out for the man to shake. Comanche smiled that familiar grin as he placed his cup down behind him to shake the chief's hand. The bearded man in the room got up and moved past the two as Comanche spoke again.

"Please, Mustang, I'm retired now," he said. Mustang took a step back to survey the man after they separated their hands. Giolo Comanche hadn't changed since he'd last seen the man in Ishval. He had been one of the detectives that had left during the exodus in Ishval, landing himself in homicide at Central. It appeared that life had been rather good to him there.

"So, what did you want to see me for?" Mustang asked. Comanche reached back and grabbed his cup, taking a sip from it before answering.

"I wanted to speak to you about something privately." His entire demeanor suddenly looked tense, almost like a child who didn't want to tell on his classmates.

"We can use my office or the conference room," he offered, but Comanche shook his head. "Well, there's always the interrogation rooms."

"That'll be perfect." Mustang nodded before turning and leading the pair of them back to the interrogations rooms. A few of the detectives stared at the odd duo, but the chief ignored them. Roy proceeded into the interrogation room he had been in just a little over half an hour ago and both he and Comanche took a seat.

"So, what's this all about, detective?" Mustang asked once they were settled in comfortably. Comanche responded by taking another sip of coffee and giving a slight cough. Now the chief was beginning to get annoyed.

"I saw the news about the Bradley trial while I was waiting," Comanche said solemnly.

"Well, it's a big thing in the country right now," Mustang responded. Where was Comanche exactly going with this?

"Yes, it is…a lot of good detectives' names being dragged through the mud." Roy sat up straight, hearing the near accusatory tone in the man's voice.

"A lot of good people _died_ because of Bradley, too. Don't forget that," he said to the retired man in warning.

"Of course…no one would have wanted that, but things were different back then," Comanche mumbled. Mustang's gaze sharpened in inquiry upon the older man. "The criminal world was very different back then. Before Bradley became commissioner, there wasn't much we could do."

"Are you saying that Bradley's actions, Bradley's _murders_, were justified?" Mustang asked incredulously. Comanche shook his head.

"No, but…we weren't perfect," Comanche said deliberately. "Sometimes, if we wanted to catch a criminal we had to do things that by today's standards would be considered horrific. Bradley was the first one to allow it. If it wasn't for him and Homunculus Corp, the streets would have run with the blood of its citizens. Bradley gave us that power and he, as wrong as it may have been, he came to practically control the criminal underworld and crime went down."

"What are you trying to say?" Mustang suddenly demanded. Comanche was practically twitching with nervousness now. He took another sip of coffee and gave another cough before continuing on.

"I…" he began, before stopping and contemplating his next words. "I did my duty. I served my country and I put criminals behind bars the best way I knew how. Sometimes that meant doing things that today, maybe even then, would be considered morally reprehensible, but it was the only way. Bradley made that possible. Then…then, you arrested him and everything came out: all the alliances, all the corruption, and no one was safe anymore." Comanche paused here before leaning in and whispering:

"When you arrested Bradley, you poked a sleeping dragon and that dragon woke up." He followed this with a small string of coughs. Mustang continued to stare at him in miffed indifference.

"What does that mean?"

"I mean-" he stated in a raspy voice before cutting himself off with more heaving coughs.

"Are you all right?" the chief asked kindly.

"Yes…I guess that coffee is becoming a little too bitter for this old man," he chuckled. At those words, Roy stood and started towards the door.

"I'll get you some water."

"Much appreciated." Roy just waved off his gratitude as he left the room.

Comanche's words concerned him, though he couldn't figure out why he was telling him. He was the man that put Bradley behind bars, one of the few remaining cops not under his corrupting influence. Surely Comanche realized he had the power to arrest the man. But that talk of dragons and poking…that just sounded like gibberish. Mustang frowned as he reached the cooler and began pouring a cup of water.

"So, Chief," called Havoc's voice from next to him, "heard old man Comanche came to visit you." Mustang gave a grunt as confirmation.

"What did he want?" Hawkeye asked, joining the two of them at the water cooler.

"I don't know," Mustang answered honestly. "He's telling me some stuff about Bradley, but you'd think he'd either have told Douglas or kept his mouth shut. He was about to clarify but he needed some water, so…I'll let you know when I'm finished."

Havoc just shrugged dismissively as Hawkeye turned away. Roy quickly left them with the cup of water clasped firmly in his hand. Still musing over the retired detective's words, he opened the door to the interrogation room and dropped the cup.

Comanche was on the ground, writing and choking furiously, his face purple. The chair he had been sitting on was tipped over and his coffee had spilled all across the floor. It was a split second of a horrific vision that made Mustang freeze before he slid to Comanche's twitching side. "Medic!" he screamed. Beside him, Comanche's twitching calmed down but the chief knew that it wasn't because the symptoms were subsiding.

"D…" choked the older man. Mustang leaned in as Comanche made a desperate grab for his belt. "D…ra…"

His voice quickly failed him though, and Roy found himself in a panic. On instinct, Roy clambered atop him and began pumping his chest, hoping to jolt some life back into his chest. Comanche had stopped moving now, so Mustang pushed harder as he heard scrambling footsteps. "Come on! Come on!" In desperation, Mustang leaned down and listened for a breath…a heartbeat…anything. There was nothing, and Mustang knew the truth. He had known it the second he entered the room.

Giolo Comanche was dead.

* * *

**Author's Note: Welcome back! Or just plain welcome if you're new! This is the first chapter of TO FIND A KILLER, my (hopfully) highly anticipated sequel to TO CATCH A KILLER. You're in for thrill ride, this time. It may be shorter, but good. A few points though. I'm going to be working on many projects at once including my own potentially publishable fiction and another fanfic for Fairy Tail (probably posted next week) so I may not update all the time. Also, some people mentioned the automail issue at the end of my last novel. Well, modern medicine is amazing and this should clear up some concerns. Just as well, **_**yes**_** you do need to find a killer before you can catch them, so just think why I named the **_**second**_** story "to find" rather than the other way around. Anyway, I've talked your ear off enough, so please leave me a review and as always: Dare to Be Silly.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, dicey first chapter huh? Only gets dicier…more dicey…don't know. Chapter 2 start!**

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Chapter 2

Edward Elric was _not_ having a good day.

It was bad enough that it had started off with jabbing pains in his shoulder from his automail installation seven months ago. Then he had to deal with Winry, who he loved for all time but was driving him crazy lately. Even worse, Al and Mei were still home for breakfast before Al headed off to his new job at East University. They were still in wedding gush mode and Ed had found it hard enough to deal with one emotional female…not three. Then there was that bastard Mustang's offer. Well, it was safe to say that Ed was among the least happy people at the Eastern Police Department.

At least he was happier than Giolo Comanche, whose body was a few feet away from him. Of course, Knox the coroner had to say the one thing that could make his day worse.

"Poison," he announced to the room. Ed ground his teeth together and knelt down to put the now empty coffee cup in an evidence bag.

"So, he was murdered?" Mustang asked, and he looked just as pissed as the forensics specialist felt. "Damn it! I shouldn't have gone to get him that water."

"There was nothing you could have done," Knox consoled him. "He was dead before he entered this interrogation room. He just didn't know it."

"What do you mean?" the chief demanded, running a hand agitatedly through his hair.

"It wasn't some super fast acting poison because there's none of the signs," he explained. "The real kicker is this, though: rigor mortis." Ed's eyes widened as he watched the medical examiner attempt to move one of Comanche's fingers but received nothing but resistance.

"What kind of poison did they use, then?"

"Can't say for sure, but judging by the rigor mortis and the position of the body, not to mention the asphyxiation…I'd hazard a good guess at the poison being strychnine."

"Strychnine?" Ed asked in surprise. All eyes in the room turned to him momentarily. "That kind of stuff is used in novels, not real life. I mean, as far as I remember, it's only been used in one case over the last decade."

"Well, they must have wanted it to work quickly but without arousing too much suspicion on them. That's why they chose strychnine."

"How long does it take to kill them?" Mustang asked fiercely. Knox adjusted his glasses before answering.

"Considering that it was probably in his coffee, I'd say fifteen, twenty minutes tops." Ed snapped a look to Mustang, along with all the other detectives in the room.

"That means he was poisoned here," Mustang pointed out, though it seemed to be more for his own benefit. "The killer's in this building. Havoc, Breda, get this place on lockdown now! Not a single person enters or exits this building without my authority!"

"Sir!" came the affirmation. The two detectives quickly left the room. Mustang, his eyes sharp and his lips pursed, turned to the remaining three people in the room.

"Knox, are you absolutely certain about the cause of death?" he asked. Ed's eyes flitted between the chief and the coroner. He hadn't seen Mustang so agitated in awhile. Then again, a murder in the police station itself wasn't exactly the best of situations.

"As sure as I can be without doing a full autopsy," the man answered.

"Then I need you to do one as soon as possible."

"These things take time, Mustang!" argued Knox, getting into the chief's face. Mustang didn't flinch and managed to maintain his air of cold impassiveness. Knox continued to glare at him in their standoff until he finally sighed and pulled away. "Fine, but I need someone to help me move the body."

"I'll have Armstrong help you," Mustang said, turning away himself. "Hawkeye, get Armstrong down here, and while you're at it, grab Feury and round up everyone in the station. We have some suspects to question."

"Anyone in particular?" Hawkeye asked as she made her way out of the room. Mustang was following her and Ed went with them, the deadly coffee cup still clasped in his hand.

"The visitors. They were the ones closest to Comanche before I met up with him. We'll question them first." Hawkeye nodded and picked up her pace, quickly leaving the two males' presence. When she was gone, Mustang turned to Ed. "Run down to the lab and test that thing for strychnine."

"I'm guessing you need it right away," Ed stated.

"What do you think, Fullmetal?" Ed gave a small chuckle to relieve the tension of the situation. "I want all my facts on the table before I start making any stupid accusations. So run those tests and bring me the results as soon as possible."

"Yeah, yeah," Ed waved off. He then turned away and left the chief. As he strolled through the station to the forensics lab, he could see it had been thrown into a frenzy. Officers were being corralled, some of them with looks of rage. He could see Feury attempting to direct them all, but the young detective wasn't having much luck. Armstrong was also striding towards Ed, giving the forensics specialist a small nod as he continued to barrel down to the interrogation room. Ed also caught sight of Hawkeye speaking to the visitors before the bulk of the station was gone from view.

"What the hell is going on up there?" Darius suddenly asked the second that Ed entered the lab.

"Detective Hawkeye came to visit and told us to stay put," Heinkel explained. "Not like we were going anywhere with all this work to do."

"Someone got murdered," Ed explained brusquely. Both of his co-workers' eyebrows shot straight up.

"Was it like a shooting or something?" Darius asked. Ed rolled his eyes at the question.

"Yes, someone was shot. That's why I came in carrying a coffee cup," Ed told them sarcastically. Judging by their frowns, the men weren't too happy with his response. "Some retired detective was poisoned, so I'm running the cup for traces of strychnine. Marcoh sure picked a fine week to take a vacation!"

The men's grunts indicated that they felt the same way. Ed finally reached the lab station and immediately prepared a solution to test for the fabled poison. While he waited for results, he brushed the lid of the coffee cup for prints. The murderer had to have lifted the lid in order to put the strychnine in, but as he dusted it, there appeared to be nothing more than Comanche's drool on it.

When he turned back he could see the results of his solution and instantly scowled. Knox had been right: Comanche had most definitely been killed by strychnine. But why and when exactly were questions that it was up to Mustang to answer. Ed quickly found an evidence form and filled it out, his scrawls becoming more illegible as they ran down the page. As soon as the last line was filled out, Ed whipped out of the lab, running as fast as he could to get to Mustang. The chief was right where he had left him.

"Definitely strychnine," Ed told him. Mustang quickly mirrored his scowl.

"All right." The chief ran a hand through his hair as he began to walk towards the other interrogation room. "You should sit in on the interrogations. I could use your mind." As much as Ed would have liked to refuse the older man, he couldn't deny his intrigue. So, he followed him into the room where what Ed presumed to be a visitor was sitting calmly, if entirely bewildered.

"What's this all about, detective? Am I being arrested?" he asked once he caught sight of Mustang.

"Just some questions," Mustang said as he seated himself. Ed hung back behind Mustang, choosing to simply survey the room. "Can I ask why you were here at the station?"  
"Witness statement," the man replied. Ed observed him while he talked and felt no signs of deception. He seemed to be an ordinary man, if a little aloof. "I own a store across the street from Steiner's Jewelry so I saw them get robbed. I even called the police."

"Yes, I can see…" Mustang said, shifting through sheaves of paper. "It would appear your story checks out."

"I don't understand. What's going on?" Instead of answering, Mustang slapped a photo of Giolo Comanche onto the table.

"Do you recognize this man?"

"Uh…I think he was at the visitor's waiting area with me."

"He was just murdered." The man's eyes widened in surprise and slight disgust. "Did anyone approach him or accost him while you were waiting?"

"I-I don't know. Some big, burly man, I think. Other than that, I couldn't say." Ed quickly realized that the man must have been talking about Armstrong. Mustang didn't seem concerned, though.

"All right, you can go. Tell the detectives at the door that the chief let you leave." The man uttered a "thanks" before scrambling out of the chair and leaving the room. Mustang had barely a moment to sigh before Hawkeye was bringing in the next visitor. This time it was a woman with blonde hair and a pair of glasses. She was holding a thin book of crossword puzzles as she sat down. "What brought you to East PD today, Miss Clara?"

"An old friend," the woman answered. Mustang nodded but continued to stare at her as if awaiting further elaboration. "I came to see an old friend, not even sure if he remembers me. Unfortunately, I was told he no longer works here. Transfer orders from some time ago."

"I see. You were in the visiting area with this man, Giolo Comanche, correct?"

"Yes, I remember," she answered.

"Did you notice anyone suspicious around him or anything strange whatsoever?" Mustang asked. The woman, Clara, pursed her lips as if thinking about it but eventually shook her head.

"No, I can't say I did. Then again, I was too focused on my crossword to really notice anything. I think I remember seeing you and that one large detective, but I couldn't be sure."

"Anything could be helpful," Mustang said. Still, Clara couldn't formulate an observation.

"Sorry, but I really couldn't tell you anything else about the retired officer."

"That's okay," Mustang assured her. Ed continued to stare at the two of them as the chief dismissed the woman. "This is starting to go nowhere."

"You've only spoken to two people!" Ed protested.

"Yeah, and they were about as helpful as a roc-" Mustang suddenly cut himself off and sat up straight in his chair. Ed gave him a confused glance as Mustang began tapping against the table in an agitated rhythm.

"What is it now?" he asked in annoyance.

"'Officer'…not detective," Mustang mumbled out. Now, Ed was beginning to feel lost. "She called him a retired _officer_."

"So what? I'm sure it's a common mistake."

"Except for the fact that she only overheard him called 'Detective'," Mustang pointed out and Ed began to get a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Why would she call him officer unless…"

"She knew him as one!" realized Ed. "She knew Comanche."

"Which means her old friend was Comanche and she's his killer!" Mustang wasted no time in practically throwing his chair to the floor as the two men sped from the interrogation room, Hawkeye stared at them in surprise before following after them. There was no one in their way on account of being rounded up, allowing the trio to blaze a quick path to the exit.

"What's up, chief?" Havoc asked as they approached.

"The blonde-haired woman. Where is she?"

"We let her go already, like you ordered," Breda said. Mustang pushed them aside and exited the station. Ed followed him, but a quick glance at the station lot told them both that the woman was long gone.

"Damn it!" Mustang screamed. "Get on the security cameras and find me a picture of her then send out an APB."

"Got it, boss!" Havoc announced as he and Breda once more went inside. Mustang once more ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"So what now?" Ed asked tentatively, knowing that anything might set the older man off.

"Nothing. We'll get an APB out and then all we can do is wait," the chief growled. "It's not my favorite course of action, but at least we know who the killer is."

"Sounds great," Ed said sardonically. "If we're done here, I'm going back to work. I've got enough of it backlogged." The refusal to respond all but told Ed that he was free to leave. He briefly rolled his eyes and trudged back up the steps. The atmosphere in the station was still tense but was beginning to return to its normal levels. Ed ignored all that as he made his way back to the lab and began his work once again, quickly getting lost in the sheer volume of it.

It was only as Heinkel and Darius were finally leaving for the day that Ed, too, decided he could finish his work tomorrow. Without even a fellow word of goodbye to the detectives on the force, Ed found himself in his car and back on the way to Resembool. His mind shut off as he drove, the stress of the day and its events becoming too much. He only breathed when his car finally pulled up to his house and he smelled dinner wafting towards him. Judging from the second car outside the house, it wasn't hard to guess who was really making dinner.

"Hello, Edward, it's good to see you again," called the kind voice of Gracia Hughes. Ed looked to her and noticed the flowery apron and oven mitts that indicated she was helping to make dinner. In truth, Ed was grateful for Mrs. Hughes' help during Winry's pregnancy. Roy had introduced them and since Winry and Elicia got along so well (like sisters, actually) it came as no surprise that the Hughes' family would come over for dinner every other week. During the last two months, Gracia had even begun to prepare dinner for the Elrics.

"Hey, Mrs. Hughes, how are you?" Ed asked, kicking his shoes off. Gracia caught sight of Ed's facial expression and chuckled.

"I know that look. Tough day at work?" she asked as two more people entered the hallway.

"Oh, you're _finally_ here, Ed," Winry huffed. Ed frowned and glared at his wife who was currently being supported by his brother. Alphonse Elric gave him a small smile, but Ed's present mood prevented him from returning it.

"Sorry I have a nine-to-five job to keep, Winry," Ed snapped. Winry simply answered his retort with a withering glare. Ed finished dropping his things to the floor and made his way to the kitchen where the smell of roast chicken emanated.

"Dad called today," Al said as he and Winry (along with Gracia) followed the forensics specialist into the kitchen. "He wanted to know if you and Mustang are still joining him for lunch after the trial on Wednesday."

"Damn…I forgot about those stupid lunch plans," he complained as he fell into a chair. The oven then dinged and Winry slowly sat next to Ed.

"Is that why you seem more pissed off than usual?" she asked testily. Al seemed to observe his brother a moment before voicing his own thoughts.

"She's right. Your scowl's deeper than most days." Ed couldn't help but glare at Al a moment.

"I'm not surprised," Ed said. "There was a murder at the station today."

"Literally at the station? ! It wasn't detective Hawkeye, was it?" Winry asked in shock. Ed put a hand on her shoulder, as if to reassure her.

"Don't worry, it was no one you know. Some retired detective came in to talk with Mustang about something and he was poisoned by some woman. She did get away, though," Ed mused uncomfortably. Next to him, Winry put a hand on her stomach and let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay at least." Ed nodded as sounds came from the back of the house. Gracia also approached the table and placed several pieces of chicken on the table. Moments later, Mei Chang and Elicia Hughes appeared in the kitchen. The nine-year old girl began to instantly chat with Winry while Mei gave Al a peck on the cheek as she herself sat down to dinner. Ed didn't wait for anything else to start grabbing food.

"Roy's not stopping by, I'm guessing?" Gracia asked as she sat on Ed's other side.

"Doubtful. He might have if that murder hadn't happened," he commented.

"What's this world coming to?" she asked rhetorically with a shake of her head. "First it's corrupt commissioners, and now murders in a police station."

Ed couldn't find a suitable reply to that, so he hastily went for more food. Her question did merit thought, though. The whole world was going topsy-turvy with the Bradley case and Ed was still stuck in the middle of it all. A slight jab entered his right shoulder, reminding him of just how much his life had changed. Some part of him yearned to go back to simpler times, but as he looked at the exuberant pair that was Al and Mei, and Winry's glowing face, he knew he wouldn't want to trade this for the world. The country may have been going to hell in a hand basket, but he at least had some peace.

It was late evening by the time that the Hughes were finally leaving, which happened to be shortly after dinner had finished. Ed thanked Gracia while she calmly told Ed to take care of Winry. The Elrics then waved both Gracia and the sleeping Elicia goodbye as Ed helped his wife to the couch. The forensics specialist avoided the news like the plague that night, not wanting to see the newest APB plastered all over their screen. Instead they all settled on some family sitcom whose plot Ed could care less about. Eventually, it came time for them to all go to sleep. Al and Mei headed to their room (Mei's old guest room being converted to a nursery), while Ed and Winry prepared for bed themselves in the master bedroom.

Of course, it wasn't like Ed was actually planning to get any sleep, given that Winry had to get up and go to the bathroom every five minutes. Sure, he had some shuteye here and there, but he was interrupted more often than not. He supposed it was training him for when the baby was born, but for now it was driving him nuts. Then his phone rang.

"It's five-thirty in the morning. What do you want?" Ed groaned into his phone. The noise managed to wake Winry, who made it yet another opportunity to go to the bathroom.

"Edward," said the cool voice of Riza Hawkeye, "we need you at a crime scene."

"Can't Darius or Heinkel do it?"

"Roy asked specifically for you." Of course, Mustang was involved in this. Wherever Riza was, the new chief of East PD wasn't far away. With another groan, Ed swung himself out of bed, slid the phone between his shoulder and ear, and began to pull his socks on.

"Fine. What's going on?"

"I think it's best you see for yourself." She gave him no more room to ask questions as the line suddenly clicked off.

Ed finished getting dressed before he told Winry where he was going. He also made sure to grab a few slices of bread for the road. As he started driving, Ed found he had a text from Hawkeye that told him where to go. Grumbling about unreasonable hours, Ed shoved a piece of bread in his mouth as he drove to his destination.

He certainly didn't expect what he found there.

"Explosion," Hawkeye explained once she caught sight of him. "The truck was escorting a prisoner from holding to the East Penitentiary when it suddenly blew up. Bomb squad said it was activated remotely since there was no timer and no detonator. Thankfully there were only three casualties."

"_Only_ three?" Ed asked incredulously. Hawkeye nodded her head perfunctorily.

"The two guards and the prisoner they were escorting."

"Who was the prisoner?"

"Our friendly neighborhood drug dealer, Mickey Martins," answered Mustang. Ed could now see the chief approaching with an even bigger scowl than Ed's. As Ed surveyed the crime scene, it wasn't hard to see why. Enclosed within the yellow crime scene tape was a practically hollowed out prison transport vehicle, pieces of it scattered here and there across the scene. It was not a pretty picture. Still, Mustang's words rang in his ear with familiarity.

"That guy we brought in this morning?" Ed asked, receiving a nod from Mustang as response. He shook his head and went back to looking at the crime scene. "So, what do you need me for? I'm no bomb squad expert and I doubt there'll be any fingerprints that are usable."

"I know," Mustang said, shoving his hands inside his pockets. "I just want to see what you can glean that the bomb squad guys can't."

Ed frowned but looked back at the scene anyway. He saw that the officers had removed the three bodies from the upright truck already, having placed them to the side. Judging from their burns, they had never stood a chance. Other than that, the numerous truck parts and the overturned lamppost indicated the vehicle had still been moving when the bomb went off. His eyes returned to the positioning of the truck and something clicked in Ed's head.

"The truck didn't flip over," Ed pointed out. "If the bomb were on the outside, wouldn't the truck have flipped?"

"Bomb squad didn't pick up on that," Hawkeye pointed out. Before Mustang could respond, she stepped over the crime scene tape so that she could further examine the interior of the vehicle.

"You're right," Mustang mused quietly. "The force of the blast would have tipped it over, but on the inside it would just cause damage."

"Must've been pretty small or you think someone would've noticed," Ed commented.

"It was small, no bigger than a keychain. I could only imagine what something bigger could do."

"The real question is how it got on the inside."

"That part's easy," Mustang said, giving the forensics specialist a pat on the back. "As much as I hate to admit it, we have a cop who was more than willing to kill."

"Isn't that par for the course these days?"

Mustang gave Ed a half smirk before starting to walk away. "Feury, think you can get me a list of guards assigned on prison transport duty."

Ed chuckled at how nonchalant the chief was about the whole thing, but at the same time he couldn't blame him. His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket and Ed fished it out with a shake of his head. He quickly saw that he had a text from an unknown sender. Ed's lips twitched into a frown. Who would be texting him at this point of the day. Curious, he opened his phone and nearly dropped it.

**Who Killed Mickey Martins? You Have 24 Hours.**

**Fail, And You'll Be Next.**

"Mustang!" Ed screamed, an act that was so much unlike him. Said man must have heard the plea in his voice because he all too quickly made his way over. Ed instantly thrust his phone in the man's face and then watched as it changed from one of impassivity to what could only be described as his game face.

"Feury, get to the station and get me that list now!" he suddenly snapped. The young black haired, bespectacled detective jumped in the distance. "Hawkeye, call Havoc and Breda and tell them to get their asses down to the station now! Armstrong, over here."

"Sir?" said the large detective as he made his way to stand beside Ed.

"Fullmetal just got this text. The sender may be around the area. Take some uniforms, preferably Brosh and Ross, and sweep the area."

"Yes! The art of sweeping had been passed down-"

"Just do it!" Armstrong uttered an apology and quickly meandered away. "This certainly changes things."

"Why are they targeting me? I mean, this isn't a prank, is it?" Ed scrutinized the older man a moment.

"If it's a joke, it's pretty sick…and stop looking at me like I would pull something like this," Mustang said with a slap to the back of Ed's head.

"Sorry," Ed said. "Well, whoever they are, they want me to solve this case for whatever reason."

"Yeah, but twenty-four hours isn't a very big window. So we should get going." Mustang didn't even wait for Ed to follow. Ed didn't care and he quickly got back in his car to drive to the station. The Mustang-Hawkeye duo beat him by mere seconds. To his surprise, both Havoc and Breda were already there (actually, Breda had been at the station the whole night). "Conference room, now."

No one disobeyed his orders, and Ed found himself seated with the detectives shortly after. Feury was the last to amble in with a stack of papers in his hands. Armstrong was still nowhere to be seen but Mustang hardly seemed to care at that moment.

"What's going on here, boss?" Breda asked in between yawns.

"At the Martins crime scene, Fullmetal got an anonymous text giving him twenty-four hours to solve the case or he'll be the next to die," the chief announced to the room. That made everyone who hadn't already, sit up sharply. "I don't have to tell you how serious this is. Someone is threatening the life of one of our own, so we need to solve this case quickly. Feury, what do you have for me?"

"Just a few names, but two of those were the guards that died in the explosion," Feury answered, shuffling around with the papers. "I called the prison and the third name called in sick and his co-worker confirmed that the guy could barely even move."

"So, it wasn't the prison transport staff," Mustang said as he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"It must have been an officer on duty," Hawkeye stated, her finger tapping rhythmically on the conference room table. "Bomb squad was able to confirm two things before we left. There were no fingerprints or any source of identification within the vehicle and the bomb was located very close to Martins' person. It is possible that an officer on duty could have attached the bomb to Martins since it was very small and he wouldn't have been the wiser."

"There could've been at least twenty different guys on duty, though!" Havoc complained.

"Not really," Ed countered. "Sure, a lot of guys would be on duty but only one would have enough access to get the bomb on Martins."

"The guy in charge of the holding cells at the time of the transfer," Mustang confirmed with a smirk. "Okay, let's find out who was in charge and run his financials. We need to see if there's any reason he'd blow up Martins. Fullmetal, head down to holding and dust for fingerprints."

"You do realize how many fingerprints may be there, right?"

"I do. So let's see if you find any." The idea struck a chord in Ed's mind. Mustang was very obviously hinting at something, something that Ed ruminated upon as he left the detectives to head to the lab. When he grabbed his tools is when it finally hit him: Mustang was hoping for the absence of fingerprints. If there were no fingerprints, it meant that their killer _was_ the officer in charge of the holding cell.

Setting his face into one of determination, Ed made his way to the holding cells as quick as he could. The guard currently on duty there allowed him in and the forensics specialist immediately went to work. He dusted every inch of the cell from the bars to the lock to the bed. He even went as far as to dust down the toilet in the corner, holding his breath the entire time. Nothing showed up. No matter what he did or how many times he repeated his efforts, Ed only received a sweating forehead and the conclusion that the location had been entirely wiped down. Whoever he was, he certainly didn't want anyone to identify him, though that was hardly looking to be a problem now. A triumphant smirk plastered on his face, Ed packed up his belongings and raced from the holding cell. It was a quick trip as he soon saw Mustang coming into view, talking to the hulking form of Armstrong.

"…nothing there," Armstrong said with a frown. "All we could tell was a vacant apartment that had been forced into, but it's not like the perpetrator left any other evidence behind."

"So, that's a dead end, huh?" Mustang commented. "Well, that's a shame. Thanks for trying, though. What do you have for me, Fullmetal?"

"Nothing," Ed piped out. Mustang nodded his head and began to lead the two away from Armstrong. "There wasn't a single fingerprint or anything."

"I had figured," the chief said as they continued their stroll. Ed could see that their course was taking them toward the officers Ross and Brosh, two officers he had come to know well over the last seven months. "We were able to get a confirmation on who was in charge of the holding cells this morning: an officer by the name of Vincent Cohen. He came off duty almost as soon as the transfer was made."

"How soon?"

"Fifteen minutes, which given access is more than enough time to wipe the cell of his presence in it. Either way, on record the man's as pristine as the badge they gave him his first day here. Outstanding officer, always punctual, you name it. Then we took a look at his financials."

"Let me guess: not so squeaky clean?" Ed asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Try seventy-two thousand splotches of dirt," Roy spat with distaste. Ed, himself, almost dropped his case.

"He was paid seventy-two thousand Cenz? ! That's a lot of money!"

"Yeah, and it was made yesterday. It was clearly a payoff of some kind. Ross, Brosh, I have a job for you two!" They had finally reached the loitering officers who snapped to attention at the chief's approach. "I need you two to go to Officer Cohen's place and bring him in for questioning. If he's not there, let me know right away."

"Of course, sir!" When the two departed, Mustang turned back to Ed with a shrug.

"I'd say the fact that you found nothing is the proverbial final nail in the coffin," he told the forensics specialist. "You'd best get back to work, Fullmetal. I'll let you know when we have something."

"You do that, but I'm going to get some coffee first." Ed departed from the conversation immediately. He dropped his case off in the lab (where his two co-workers had just arrived) and went straight back out to his favorite coffee shop. Ed usually couldn't stand the stuff, but over late nights in the lab, he had grown to love it.

As he entered the coffee shop, he found the line inside to be a bit long and the forensics specialist resigned himself to waiting, biting back a yawn. While he waited, he took to people watching, noticing a young couple who were obviously meeting up, a man reading his morning newspaper, and a woman who appeared to have just arrived from dropping her children off at school. There was also a younger man that looked vaguely familiar who was sitting at a table, his leg bouncing agitatedly, as if waiting for someone.

Ed's brow crinkled in concentration, wondering just where he had seen the man before. He was clean-cut with black hair, a mustache and a decent build. The man looked like he worked out, or at least he was active. It was the way his hand kept unconsciously sliding to his side that made Ed remember: this guy worked at East PD. _What's he doing here then?_ Ed thought. His eyes now narrowed, his hand reached into had pocket for his phone as he called Mustang.

"Can't decide what coffee to get, Fullmetal?" the chief joked over the phone.

"What's Cohen look like?" he whispered into the phone. Ed heard shuffling on the other end.

"Black hair, thin mustache. Why?"

"I'm looking at him." The line went dead right away. Cohen's gaze was sweeping the room nervously as Ed watched him. It was unfortunate that the forensics specialist didn't turn away in time because the two quickly locked eyes. There was only a split second between the action and reaction, meaning that Cohen was up in a flash and Ed was chasing after him.

Despite the numerous complaints from other customers, Ed shoved past them on his way to beat Cohen to the door. He wasn't quick enough and Cohen banged the door into an approaching customer as he fled. The forensics specialist was only seconds behind him, his footsteps uneven on the pavement. As Cohen looked back, Ed took it as his chance to speed up, tackle him, and pin him to the floor.

"Did you send the text?" Ed demanded once he had the man secured.

"I don't know what you're-" Cohen tried to say, but was cut off by the presence of other voices.

"We'll take it from here, Fullmetal," called Mustang's cool voice. Ed nodded in understanding as he stood and brought Cohen up with him. "Vincent Cohen, you're under arrest."

"Mustang, sir, just hear me out," Cohen babbled, his eyes wide in fear. Mustang tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for whatever the officer might say. "It wasn't me. I just had to slip the keychain onto Martins."

"Tell me where this renders a non-guilty verdict?"

"I was paid to do it!" the man whined. Ed rolled his eyes. He wasn't really helping his case here.

"If you tell me who, I might be able to cut a deal for you," Mustang said, not an ounce of humor or deception on his face.

"I never met her, but she called herself something like the harpy or something similar. She paid me seventy-two thousand up front and we were supposed to meet so I could get the rest. It was just a job."

"Police work is a job. Working at a coffee shop is a job. What you did is not a job," the chief snapped sternly.

"I have a family. I jut wanted the money to take care of them!" Cohen cried desperately.

"Maybe you should have thought of them before you murdered three people!" At these words, Cohen hung his head. "Havoc, cuff him." Ed moved away from Cohen and towards Mustang while Havoc brought his cuffs out.

_BANG!_

The gunshot was surprisingly loud on the open street. Screams from lingering citizens pierced the air and Ed felt himself pulled down to the ground along with Mustang. From the other sounds around the area, he figured the other officers had done the same. After a few more seconds and no more noises, the chief released him and they got back up.

"Is everyone okay?" Mustang asked. A scoff was heard behind them, having issued from Havoc.

"Everyone but Cohen," he remarked. Ed whipped around and his eyes immediately fixed upon the lifeless body of Vincent Cohen who had a bullet through his head. Mustang instantly got to work, giving instructions to the officers and detectives around him. Ed hardly paid them mind as he found his phone vibrating. The forensics specialist quickly took it out and looked at the text on the screen.

**Round One Complete.**

With those words came a surprising sigh of relief from Ed's lips…until he got the second text.

**Tell Me, Edward Elric, Do You Like To Play Games?**

* * *

**Author's Note: For the record, in TO CATCH A KILLER we had a grand total of three deaths. Two chapters in here, FIVE deaths. Yeah, this is serious. Anyway, a lot happened in this chapter and I hope you all enjoyed it. I was disappointed with the lack of response last chapter but I hope you'll all surprise me this chapter. Anyway, please Review and Dare to Be Silly.**


	3. Chapter 3

**So, is this too intense for you? Is it? IS IT? Nah, there's not enough intensity. Now, let's begin Chapter 3! (Totally didn't mean to rhyme there.)**

* * *

Chapter 3

"I want a full perimeter sweep of these buildings now!" Mustang bellowed, a vein pulsing on his head. "Find me that sniper, or at least where the hell he took that shot from!" A few chorus of agreements met Mustang's ears as his men scrambled in every which direction, still shaken by what had just happened. Havoc was crouching next to the body of Cohen, his shirt stained with the man's blood.

"Who could've seen this coming?" he asked with a shake of his head. "Just who the hell are these people?"

"I don't know," Mustang answered with a scowl. He looked to the body at his feet. Cohen hadn't stood a chance but clearly whoever had killed Martins (or at least arranged it) hadn't wanted any information to leak out. The only question now was why they would send those texts to Ed. Almost as if his thoughts had summoned the man in question, Ed approached the chief with his phone clasped tightly in his hand. "You all right, Fullmetal?"

"Would be…if there wasn't some deranged psycho killer after me," Ed spat with distaste. He held up his phone for Roy to read the texts on the screen. Roy's eyebrow rose at the second one before his scowl set back in again. "At least I get a reprieve for now."

"I think the key words are 'for now', so just keep your guard up," Mustang warned him with a folding of his arms. "Who knows when this sick bastard will decide to play the next round?"

"They also look like they're keeping tabs on him," Breda said as he approached from down the street. "Those texts have their timing to be a little too convenient."

"Well, whoever they are, they're certainly thorough," Havoc said, finally moving away from the body. "They must have set up that whole meeting he was talking about simply to put a bullet through his brain. Probably didn't expect Fullmetal to catch on to him, though."

Mustang nodded his agreement when suddenly a crackle came across Breda's radio. "We found it, sir."

"Let's move. Fullmetal, head back to the station. You'll be safer there."

"Screw that," Ed protested. "I'm your damn forensics specialist and you're going to lock me out when you probably need me the most?"

"Your life is on the line."

"And that sniper could have taken me out, but he chose not to. I think I'm in the clear." Mustang glared at Ed's defiant face but eventually sighed and relented. He swept in the direction of the building that the uniformed officers were at without a word while Ed followed after him.

"Vacant office, sir. No sign of forced entry, though," one of the officers told him upon arrival. Ed instantly went to observe every inch of the place that he could. Roy, however, was stroking his chin in thought. In particular, he found it strange that there had been no sign of forced entry.

"Do we know who owns the building?"

"No, sir." That was clearly the only forthcoming answer and one that made the chief visibly roll his eyes. The officer hardly noticed.

"Oh, that's a shame," Mustang mocked sardonically. "If you don't have the answer then find me one! Pull up building records or company records. I don't give a damn. Just get me the answer, officer."

"Y-yes, sir!" the officer stuttered out, fleeing from the room with haste. He knew the guy probably wouldn't make much progress, but Mustang hoped they could close this case before they would need it. With the target of his frustrations now gone, Mustang turned back to Ed, who was standing at a nearby window.

"They definitely took the shot from here," Ed told the others in the room. "No fingerprints or anything. They're clearly too smart for that. Although, judging by the dust and footprints, they hadn't expected Cohen to run very far, because they set up shop here pretty quickly. I'm surprised they could take such a quick and clean shot."

"Yeah, well, we sat around talking for long enough," Mustang admitted. "All right, Havoc, Breda, cordon this place off as a crime scene. I'm not sure how much progress we can make on this case with so little evidence, but I don't want anybody screwing something up."

As usual, Havoc and Breda saluted him and Roy left the room along with Ed. The two men were silent on their way back to the station, and Mustang figured that Ed was just as lost in his own thoughts as he was. This case was becoming too mind-boggling for his tastes. Too many things weren't adding up and the lack of evidence was utterly disturbing. It was a perfect crime; but Roy knew there were no such things. There had to be some link they were missing but they had hardly caught a break to look for it.

"What happened?" came the voice of Riza once he had stepped foot in the station.

"Cohen's dead and we have no leads," he told her. Her face quickly mirrored his frown.

"First Martins, and then the one who killed him? They're certainly tying up their loose ends."

"It's pissing me off."

"Could it be the cartel?" Hawkeye asked as they reached the door to Mustang's office. "The one Martins mentioned?"

"That's honestly the best idea I've heard all day," he commented, "but considering that we don't even know where or who this cartel is, that hardly helps us."

"I can still look into it, sir," she suggested. Mustang considered it a moment before nodding his head in agreement. Hawkeye didn't even say a word as she moved off. The chief scratched his head as he watched her go and then he retreated into the confines of his office where numerous stacks of paperwork still awaited him.

_Doesn't help that these nasty cases keep appearing by the day_, he thought as he pulled a new stack towards him. It was slow going, but Mustang received no further interruptions the rest of the day, enabling him to get a rather huge amount of work done. He would occasionally see his detectives at their desks through his blinds, and it was clear that all of them were working surprisingly hard. They never bothered him, though, and Roy was able to leave work without incident. The rest of his day then passed in a blur, because all the chief could think about were the unsolved cases before him and the trial that he would be attending the next day.

* * *

It was an early morning for Roy Mustang the next day, though it wasn't one he was particularly fond of. He only had time for a bowl of cereal and a bagel before he was off to Resembool. There, he picked up Ed who was looking just as groggy and the two began making their way to Central. They arrived fifteen minutes early and were instantly greeted by Henry Douglas.

"You've been through this before, Mustang, so I don't need to remind you how imperative it is that you only say what needs to be said. Elric-"

"I know," Ed grumbled. "This is the biggest case of the year, so don't screw it up. We caught the guy. Do you really think we'd do that?" Douglas had no more words for the pair of them as he let them into the courtroom. Within minutes, the seats were filled, making Mustang feel very uncomfortable by the number of people who were here to watch, like it was a spectator's sport. At some point he saw Van Hohenheim enter the room, the older man greeting them with a wave. He even received a major surprise when the president arrived, flanked by her bodyguards. It was simply further proof of how important this trial was to the country. Soon the judge was entering the room.

"All rise for the honorable Judge Gold Steiner," called the bailiff and both the chief and Ed stood together. Once the judge was seated, he called the room to order.

"Prosecution, you may call your first witness," the older man said to Douglas, who stood upon being addressed.

"Your Honor, the prosecution would like to call Interim Chief Roy Mustang to the stand," Douglas announced to the court and a hush fell over the room. Mustang stood and walked over to the bailiff and the witness stand.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God?" asked the bailiff. Roy, naturally, agreed in the affirmative and sat himself down.

"Mr. Mustang," Douglas began, pacing back and forth in front of the jury, "you were a detective at the time that you arrested King Bradley, correct?"

"That is correct," he answered.

"Did you know him well, or obtain your position through any existing relationship with Bradley?"

"Objection!" cried Klemin. "Irrelevance."

"Establishing the character of the witness," Douglas said to the judge.

"Overruled," the judge responded and Douglas turned back to Mustang with an expectant look.

"No. I was stationed in the Eastern Police Department my entire career and had never once personally met Bradley prior to obtaining my position."

"Now, would you please describe the events leading up to your arrest of King Bradley?"

"I was following a lead on the cold case of Maes Hughes. That lead connected to both the Ishval Bombing and a murder in Liore which then connected to Bradley."

"How did you obtain this connection to Bradley?" Douglas asked, having finally stopped his pacing.

"Through the testimony of the well-known serial killer Barry the Chopper. His connection to Bradley's Homunculus Corp was later proved by his financial records."

"Then how were you able to discover his plan to assassinate President Ling Yao."

"We received all the information of his plan from his subordinates Solaris and Solf J. Kimblee, both of whom are now in custody," Mustang said confidently.

"One last question, then," Douglas said as he stared Mustang down. "Did Bradley confess to you his role in these crimes?"

"Yes, he confessed to his involvement in the murder of Maes Hughes and numerous other cops while in the presence of counsel."

"No more questions. Your witness," Douglas stated as he went back to his seat. At the same time, Klemin stood and approached Mustang with a scowl.

"Mr. Mustang, you say you were investigating the Hughes case, correct?" he said. Mustang could practically feel the condescension leaking from his voice. "But wasn't that case passed along to Central, thereby leaving it out of your jurisdiction."

"There is no rule that forbids an officer to looking into any case that is open. Otherwise, the department would never get any work done."

"Yes, but in the course of this investigation, I'm sure that your personal feelings came into conflict. I mean, forgive me if I'm mistaken, but did you not shoot a man and kill him in the course of your investigation?"

Mustang's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but he answered, "Only because his threat was considerable."

"So, you committed a heinous crime to exact vengeance. Who's to say you didn't forge evidence as well?"

"Objection! Speculation."

"Sustained," the judge said. Klemin's scowl etched itself deeper.

"I'm only questioning the witness' actions."

"Roy Mustang is not on trial," Douglas argued. The judge nodded thoughtfully.

"Counselor, please restrict yourself to verifiable questions pertaining to this case." Klemin teetered between screaming and silently fuming.

He eventually decided on the latter with a, "No more questions," as he walked back to his seat.

"The witness may step down now." Mustang heeded the command. As he walked to his own seat, he caught Bradley's eye but neither man blinked or conveyed anything with their gazes. When Roy had finally passed the defendant, he heard the prosecution calling Ed to the stand. He brushed past the young forensics specialist on his way back and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Ed, however, shrugged it off and finished making his way over to the witness stand where he took the same oath as Mustang had.

"Tell me, Mr. Elric," Douglas began, "your right arm is currently automail, correct?"

"Yes." The answer was short and accurate and Mustang knew that was the way that Douglas liked it.

"Can you tell the court how it came to be so?"

"My muscles were destroyed by Bradley during a confrontation with him. They could not be restored, so I was outfitted with automail."

"This confrontation was the same evening as the one where King Bradley attempted to assassinate President Yao?"

"Yes, it was." Mustang nodded at Ed's answer, observing the young man's impassive face. Ed was holding up surprisingly well under the questioning, but then again, Klemin had yet to get up.

"Interesting…and you were also there the night that Prince Claudio of Aerugo was assassinated, if I'm not mistaken. Was there anything suspicious behind Bradley's actions that night, would you say?"

"He vanished shortly before the death of Prince Claudio after speaking with a man that is now in custody by the name of Gregor Indol," Ed responded.

"In other words," Douglas stated, turning back towards the jury, "we can confirm King Bradley's association with known criminals as well as his absolute presence and involvement in at least _two_ attempted assassinations. Thank you for your time, Mr. Elric. Your witness." True to form, Douglas sat back down, looking moderately satisfied with the answers to his short string of questions.

Then it was Klemin's turn, and he looked far more disgruntled than he had when he questioned Mustang. Although, to the chief, it didn't make him any more competent. The first thing he did was stand in front of Ed with that nasty scowl of his. The forensics specialist didn't blink. After all, he scowled on a daily basis.

"You were acquainted with King Bradley prior to your transfer to East?" he finally asked.

"Barely," was Ed's answer. "I had spoken with him a few times when he visited the lab, but other than him granting my transfer, I had no real conversation with him."

This answer appeared to have unsettled Klemin, who clearly didn't like it. Mustang could almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he tried to come up with a counter. "So, are you saying that you would not have the knowledge to break into the Bradley estate like you did seven months ago?"

"Objection!" Douglas cried, clearly tired of yelling this word. Mustang observed him, wondering what technicality might get them out of this sticky situation. "Lack of evidence."

"Sustained. Stick to the facts, counselor." Mustang sighed secretively. He had almost forgotten that Bradley had never filed a report, meaning that there was no proof that Ed had ever been there uninvited. Klemin didn't like it, but he was still willing to try another tactic.

"Mr. Elric, as a forensics specialist, you are not authorized to look into cases out of your purview."

"I'm allowed to look into any case that requires forensics expertise."

"Even one that was never assigned to you? Forgive me, but it seems as though you were looking into a case outside of your realm of expertise. To me, it seems a tad more personal."

"If you're asking whether I looked into the Hughes case for personal reasons, then the answer is no," Ed asserted with his own scowl.

"But you are familiar with Ling Yao. That made the case personal, didn't it? Which could probably hamper your judgment?"

"_Objection!_ Hearsay and speculation!"

"Sustained," the judge replied wearily. "Counselor Klemin, if you can't ask questions that actually pertain to this trial's defendant and not its witnesses, I will ask you to leave."

"My apologies. No further questions." Mustang observed him walking back to his seat again, and noted that his face hardly looked sorry at all. Ed soon joined the chief once again as the trial proceeded forward. Only one more witness (a security guard) was called before the judge gave the court a recess for lunch. Both of the men quickly met up with Hohenheim by the front door.

"I hope you're hungry," he told them as they exited the courthouse, his hands shoved in his coat pocket. "There's a new Cretan restaurant that's opened down the street, so I thought we'd check it out."

"Sounds good to me, dad. I'm starving," Ed said with a yawn. Roy wasn't surprised he was tired, given the hell of the last two days. A small beep came from Ed's pocket, which quickly drew the older man's attentions to his own phone. Realizing he should check for messages, he took his own phone out to find there was a voicemail. He was interrupted before he could check it, however. "Aw, crap! Mustang, you might want to see this."

Judging by Ed's tone when he held up his phone, he wished he didn't have to.

Dead Men Tell No Tales. But You Can Tell Theirs.

You Have 12 Hours.

Fail And You'll Be Next.

Roy growled unattractively. So, the sicko wanted to start all over again, but now he was leaving a riddle instead of outright telling them. It was a twisted game, but Mustang wasn't about to take any chances, not with Ed's life on the line. Now in a foul mood, Roy turned to Hohenheim with a frown. "I'm afraid we'll have to take a rain check on that lunch, Mr. Hohenheim. Something's come up at the station."

"Well, that's a shame," Hohenheim said with his own frown. "Maybe we can put something on the books for Sunday? That's about the only day I've got free until next weekend."

"Yeah, yeah, sounds great," Ed said agitatedly. "I'll give you a call to set it all up, but for now we gotta go, dad."

"All right. Tell Winry I said hello," Hohenheim yelled out as the two men left him. They kept up their brisk pace until they were comfortably seated inside Mustang's car. He wasn't even thinking as he turned on the vehicle and started on his way to East City.

"Sick bastard barely even gave us twenty-four hours, and now he gives us a riddle, too?" Ed complained.

"Less time, too," Mustang pointed out. "I'm not sure if it's because we solved the first one too quickly or if he's just playing around with us. So, what do you make of that riddle?"

"'Dead men tell no tales'? The only thing I can think of is pirates, but that's ridiculous," Ed mused. "Could be places connected with dead people. Let's see…morgue, funeral home…"

Roy shook his head as he let Ed continue his musings, his hand reaching for his phone so he could play the voicemail he had gotten earlier. After determining he couldn't drive and hold the phone at the same time, he decided to play the message on speaker. "Roy, please pick up. It's Gracia…I-I didn't know who else to call, but I went to visit Maes this morning and-"

"Grave!" Ed exclaimed and a horrific revelation passed over Roy's face.

"-dead body. I don't know who but he-" Mustang instantly ended the voicemail and put a call towards Hawkeye. Ed tried to say something, but the chief instantly silenced him.

"Sir, are you finally out of the trial?" asked an exasperated Hawkeye. It wasn't a tone he was wholly familiar with on her. "We could really use your help here."

"Let me guess; you found a dead body on Hughes' grave?" Mustang asked. Hawkeye gave a grunt over the line as confirmation. "Fullmetal and I are on the way. Don't touch that body, it's a little more serious than just a murder case." He ended the call as quickly as he had made it and sped the car up.

"So, this guy dumped a body on top of Hughes' grave?" Ed questioned, but didn't receive an answer. "Well, now we know he's trying to screw with us."

They didn't say anything more after that, preferring to let Mustang focus on getting to East City. An hour and a half of their precious time window had expired by the time they had arrived at the grave to find Gracia Hughes standing to the side with Armstrong, while the forms of Hawkeye, Havoc, and Breda were standing over the body. They moved away the second that the duo approached to allow Ed to examine the scene. "What do we have?"

"We had Feury run recognition while we were waiting," Hawkeye informed him. "Thankfully, we came up with a name rather easily: Majahal Williams."

"Majahal…doesn't he work for Blue Rose Technology?" Mustang asked, now joining Ed in leaning next to the body. Sure enough, the face looked similar to some of the press releases he had seen.

"Yes, he does. He's Vice President of Weaponry there, or so his company bio says," Hawkeye confirmed. Roy finished his examination and stood back up, Ed doing the same. "Per your orders, we haven't had Knox examine the body yet, but it's pretty obvious he was shot through the head. The visible marks on his wrists indicate he was either bound or dragged away before his execution."

"Well, he wasn't killed here," Ed stated. "This place is clean and I'm guessing you couldn't find a bullet?"

"That's right," Hawkeye answered with a nod before turning back to her superior. "He only has a wife named Karin and no children, so contacting his family shouldn't be difficult."

"All right, can you do that then? Fullmetal and I will pay a visit to Blue Rose Tech and try to get some answers there. I'll call you with an update." Hawkeye saluted him quickly as Roy and Ed once more headed to the chief's car. As he entered in, the coroner's vehicle arrived and Knox stepped out looking more pissed than usual. Mustang ignored it and pulled away.

"So, one of Blue Rose Tech's execs, huh?" Ed said, his eyes looking sideways at the chief.

"Yup…big time defense contractors for the country, too. Supplies everything from night vision goggles to premium grade explosive materials to specialized weaponry," Mustang said tentatively. "We'll have to tread carefully there to avoid stepping on any toes."

"Don't worry. I'll be on my best behavior," Ed said with a simpering tone. Roy glowered at him but kept his eyes on the road until they pulled up outside the massive building that housed Blue Rose Technology. It was probably one of the larger office buildings that Mustang would ever have the displeasure of entering. Every window was cleaned and its steel frame sparkled. Mustang shook his head at how well kept it looked when compared to his station before stepping inside.

"Hello, sir, how may I help you?" called the receptionist. Roy wordlessly walked over to her and held out his badge, watching her eyes widen as he did so.

"I need to see Majahal Williams' office," he told the receptionist suavely. "I'm afraid he's been murdered."

"Oh…that's horrible," the receptionist squeaked. "Un-unfortunately, I'm not sure if I have the authority to enter Mr. William's office. I'd have to call-"

"Please, Miss Clause, is it? This is a very time-sensitive issue," Mustang said to her in the kindest voice he could muster. "Surely you wouldn't get in trouble for helping a police officer out in his time of need, would you?"

"O-of course not, sir. Right way this…I mean, right this way, sir," the black-haired woman said with the deep stain of a blush on her face. She walked out from behind her desk and began to lead the two to a nearby elevator.

"You're incorrigible, you know that? She's probably half your age," Ed scolded.

"It got the job done, didn't it?" Roy defended with a shrug of his shoulders. Ed could only fold his arms as an action against that statement.

"Is that what you tell Hawkeye when you flirt with other women in front of her?"

"Shut up, Fullmetal." The two ended up standing with the woman, Clause, standing between them as they fumed silently. She didn't seem to notice and clicked the button to take them up to what appeared to be one of the top floors. It was only when they arrived that Mustang realized the whole floor practically _was_ his office.

"Is there something specific you're looking for, or…" She tapered off as Ed budged past her to start scrutinizing the room. Mustang remained silent at the entrance while he watched Ed look around. He had to admit (internally, of course) that Ed's knowledge and attention to detail was impressive even without all of his forensics equipment; it was part of what made him want Ed to be a detective. Ed examined everything quickly and effectively, including the window, the chair, and at one point he even started sniffing the floor. "Excuse me!"

"It was here," Ed said, ignoring the receptionist's indignant cry. "He was shot here, probably with a silencer."

"How can you tell?" Mustang asked. Of course he trusted Ed's words, but he wasn't going to make a move without hearing it for himself.

"Where should I start?" Ed said, moving over to the chair by the window. "First, the window's spotless and so is practically everything else. Why would you waste time cleaning all that up when it doesn't really matter? Then there's the stickiness on the chair, like he was strapped down with duct tape. The biggest giveaway though, is the smell on the carpet. Carpet cleaner, faintly, which indicated that they wanted to clean something up, possibly blood."

"In other words, we're dealing with a professional, making this a crime scene," Mustang growled and he turned back to Clause. "I'm going to need to see a record of all of Mr. Williams' visitors and security tapes. As this is officially a crime scene, I will also need to ask you to vacate the office."

"Sir, I'm afraid that's above my clear-" Clause started, but Mustang flashed his eyes at her dangerously.

"I don't care if it's above your clearance!" he barked, all of his suaveness gone. "If you can't get me those records, then find me someone who can." She gave a squeak at his order and scrambled out of the room.

"Harsh," Ed quipped. Mustang just sent him a scathing glare, which Ed ignored in favor of discussing the situation. "My question is how did the assailant get in and know that guy's working schedule? This place has top notch security systems…considering they develop them."

"True, unless you count receptionists that let you in when you flash them a badge and a smile."

"You have a point, but I doubt she would have been at work at the time. There's no way the killer could have had time to clean all this up unnoticed with employees buzzing around."

"Well, that just leaves two options: the killer paid a security guard off or they visited the building and then hid until closing hours," Mustang remarked. "It's easy to surmise that our victim would work late, considering his position."

"What the devil is going on here?" said a sudden deep voice from the entrance to the office. Both the chief and the forensics specialist turned to see that Clause had returned with an older man who looked similar to her in tow. "Clause, how could you let them in here?"

"I'm Chief Roy Mustang of the Eastern Police," Mustang rapidly introduced himself. "I'm here to investigate the murder of Majahal Williams. Who might you be?"

"M-Majahal's dead?" the man exclaimed with a stricken face. Roy nodded, which forced the man to recover. "Um…Charles Delbot, head of security."

"Excellent, then you can give me access to Mr. Williams' phone and visitor records?"

"I could…if you have a warrant," the man answered coldly, his tone completely shifting from mere seconds ago. Mustang groaned inwardly.

"And I could get you one if I had the time, but wouldn't this just be easier if you gave them to me?"

"I'm sorry, sir. No warrant, no records."

Mustang grit his teeth in frustration before deciding on an alternate tactic. "Understand this, Mr. Delbot: this case is directly linked to the life of one of my own men. If I don't get these documents, I don't solve this case. If I don't solve this case, someone else dies, and if that someone dies, then I will sure as hell charge you with accessory to murder."

"Right this way, then," Delbot said with a fakest smile imaginable. "Clause, if you could please get the visitor logs and phone records for Chief Mustang."

"Of course, dad," the girl said before vanishing. Delbot held a hand out to indicate the direction to take.

"Our security system here at Blue Rose is top notch," he explained as they walked. "Our cameras cover all main entrances and exits as well as the main entrance to each floor. At night we have a security staff working constantly. Likewise, we timestamp all visitors to the building so that we have a continually accurate record."

"Are you saying that you have every way in and out of this guy's office covered by cameras?" Ed asked.

"We did," was the tentative answer. "We've been having a slight security upgrade and the cameras were down on Majahal's floor yesterday, but we had the main elevator and stairwell completely covered."

"Obviously not enough," Ed pointed out, earning him a scowl as the trio entered into what could only be described as the security room. Monitors lined the wall, showing rotating shots of the entire building. Roy could tell by looking at it that the system was impressive. Clearly the only way that the assailant had slipped past it was by hiding in the building. There was a knock on the door and Clause entered with a sheaf of papers. The chief immediately took them.

"All visitors are logged in with their purpose and who they're affiliated with for tracking purposes."

"Do visitors always have appointments set up?" Mustang asked as he began thumbing through the last few days of visitors.

"Yes. They must call at least three days prior for an appointment. As you can guess, Majahal is a busy man, considering he works directly with the government itself." Mustang nodded as he absorbed the information before his eyes caught onto a name that was different than the rest.

"Who's this Carla? She's the only one to see Majahal for personal reasons and there's no sign of her actually checking out." Delbot nodded and turned to the security guard who brought up the previous day's tapes to around the time stamp. Roy leaned in with Ed by his side to peer at the video on the screen. It didn't take long for the woman in question to appear on the screen and give them both a jolt.

"I don't believe it…" Ed breathed out. "It's her."

"It seems this Carla is our very own Miss Clara from Monday," Roy spat with a scowl. "You couldn't detain her? We put an APB out on her, you know?"

"I'm sorry our security team doesn't do your job for you," Delbot snapped mockingly. "Besides, if you'll pay attention, you'll see that Majahal signed her in himself. The security guard got nary a word in."

"Well, that's real helpful," Mustang retorted sarcastically. "Thank you for the information. We'll be going now and taking it with us. Oh, and no one is to set a foot in that office until my team is done with it."

Neither he nor Ed gave Delbot a chance to respond. They simply took the papers and left with Clause following after them hurriedly to make sure they got out. As soon as Roy was in the car he took his cell phone out. Eight hours were left. He instantly called Hawkeye.

"Do we have an update, sir?" she asked.

"We do. Send Havoc and Breda to Blue Rose Technology to block off Majahal William's office. That's our crime scene, or so Fullmetal says."

"Makes sense," she concluded. "Knox says he was killed around nine o'clock last night and his wife says he usually doesn't come home 'til around ten, even on Sundays."

"Well, now I feel better about Fullmetal's theory," Roy said. Ed tossed him a middle finger as he continued to look through the phone records. "Also, we have a suspect."

"That quickly?"

"She wasn't exactly subtle. It's our friend Clara," Mustang reiterated to the female detective.

"Comanche's killer?"

"The one and the same. So, I need you and Feury to get me Comanche's phone records so we can see if she also paid him a visit before killing him." He didn't need to add the fact that Clara's contact may have spurred the former detective to make contact with Mustang. Either way, she quickly agreed. "We'll meet you at the station. Fullmetal and I are en route now."

There was no further need to continue the conversation. As he ended the call, he saw Ed take a pencil from his glove compartment and circle something. Rather than question him about it, the chief decided to wait until they got back to the station. As they drove through the streets, Mustang was sure that he saw Havoc's car winding its way along, too, but he pushed it from his mind and soon arrived at the station. Both Mustang and Ed bounded into the precinct and past the milling cops to approach Hawkeye and Feury, who were leaning over Feury's desk.

"Sir, we managed to get those phone records," Feury began but Ed cut him off.

"Let me look. I have a theory," he announced. Feury rolled out of the way to let him do his work. "When I was looking through the records, I noticed a call on Saturday that wasn't the same as the others. It looks like it came from a payphone rather than a cell phone, which wouldn't make much sense if you were trying to set up a meeting. So I wonder if Comanche got a call from the same payphone number."

"He did get a payphone call," Feury said, swiftly scrolling down the page and pointing to the number with his finger. "I don't know if it's the same one."

Ed glanced between the two before giving a soft growl. "No, they're not. Damn it!"

"Hold on…" Mustang said. He looked at the numbers on the pages and began to think. Payphones were hard to come by in East City, considering there were only a few areas that still had them. "Feury, can you pinpoint these payphones on a map?"

"Sure, just give me a moment." The other three stepped back to give Feury the opportunity to work. To Roy's eyes, whatever his youngest detective was doing looked like pure gibberish, but he seemed to know what it all meant because he pulled away two minutes later with a triumphant grin. Mustang glanced at the screen and snapped his fingers once he saw what he was looking for.

"I knew it! Those phones are on the same block, so our Clara…Carla…"

"Let's just call her Clarla," Ed interjected. Roy ignored him.

"She must have a safe house around there. The only question is which one?"

"This one," Hawkeye stated almost immediately, pointing to a building right next to the first payphone. "The rent's cheap and there's no need to bring it up to code so there's privacy, too."

"Then that's our place," Mustang said. "Hawkeye, get on the phone to get me a warrant and the apartment number. Armstrong! Grab Brosh and Ross and some other uniforms. You, me, and Fullmetal are heading to this address." The flurry of activity that followed was like music to the chief's ears, ending only when he and Ed were once again back in his car. Mustang instantly put his siren on and gunned it to the more urban part of the city. They were able to beat Armstrong by a minute, in which Roy had already drawn his gun.

"What now, sir?" Armstrong asked.

"Set up a perimeter around the building. No one goes in or out." Mustang then motioned to Ed and the two officers to follow him. The building had little security and they entered quietly. Mustang's phone vibrated and he pulled it out to read Hawkeye's text that said "Apt. 313". The chief smiled at his head detective's efficiency. She had clearly done her research. Mustang silently signaled to the others to head up the stairs. They did so and in under a minute they had arrived outside the door emblazoned with the numbers 313. "On 3…2…1…"

Mustang's foot swung out and kicked the door open. Brosh and Ross preceded him, with their weapons held aloft. However, Roy could tell no one was there in the tiny apartment by the way they lowered their guns. When he walked into the room, he instead found something else entirely.

"What…the…hell?" Ed whispered as he entered the room. It was no surprise given that the tiny room was wall to wall paper. In particular, what were plastered all over the room were pictures of Edward Elric. Pictures of Ed entering the station. Pictures of Ed having lunch with Hohenheim. Pictures of Ed with his family. The most disturbing one, though, was a picture of Ed with a cup of coffee in his hand and Roy standing over Mickey Martins, just as they had two days ago.

"Looks like you have a stalker, Ed," Mustang said with not an ounce of humor.

"Can't say I enjoy it," the forensics specialist responded. Roy turned around to see newspaper clippings next to the pictures and a sick feeling settled into his stomach. He pushed it down so he could continue his work.

"There may be some evidence here, still, but I want to get a protective detail on your family as soon as possible."

"Good idea." A sudden beep emerged from Ed's pocket and he pulled it out with a groan. Mustang narrowed his eyes in suspicion, which was proven just seconds later when Ed held his cell phone screen up to the chief.

Tick…Tick…Tick…BOOM!

Mustang furrowed his brow. What the hell did that mean?

_Beep._

Roy whipped around at the sound of the noise and quickly spotted something strange: a red light, flashing out from underneath the radiator in the room.

_Beep._

Suddenly, everything became clear. "Get out of this room, now!"

_Beep._

The four occupants of the room quickly obeyed him and threw themselves out of the room.

Then the apartment exploded.

* * *

**Author's Note: Cliffhanger! Action! Intrigue! And to think, this is only the third chapter. Anyway, a few notes. That trial scene had a purpose (beyond me wanting to write a trial scene) but I doubt you'll guess its intention quite yet. Also, on the note of my update schedule: I'm treating this fic like a monthly series which means I only update it once a month until my weekly story Musical Chairs is finished. Hopefully that clears things up. Anyway, thanks for all the great reviews I've received and I hope to get more. So, until next time, Review and Dare to Be Silly.**


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